


Say Yes

by choicherries



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, M/M, Prince San, Prince Seonghwa, Royalty, prince AU, prince!AU, royalty!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-02 23:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16796935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choicherries/pseuds/choicherries
Summary: How can Seonghwa do his duty when his father wants something from him that he cannot give?





	1. Austerity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iiteru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iiteru/gifts).



Seonghwa pushed the comforter off his bed, glaring blearily at what had interrupted his otherwise peaceful sleep. His manservant and friend, Kim Hongjoong stood over him with a small bell in his hand. “Finally. If you'd woken up any later, your father would have sent me sprinting into the mountains." Seonghwa frowned, rubbing his eyes. "Why does he want to see me?"

"Not entirely sure. However, breakfast will be an awkward affair of events, as you'll both be dining in the main hall."

To this, Seonghwa groaned in exasperation. "Why does he insist on doing that? Honestly, with all the rooms in this palace we could eat in, it's ridiculous that he chooses the most austere whenever he wants to speak to me." Hongjoong raised his hands in defense.

"Hey, don't tell me all this, I'm but a lowly servant." At these last words he grinned and turned to arrange Seonghwa's outfit for the day. Seonghwa made a face before rising from his bed and pulling a silk robe around his body.

His relationship with his father wasn't incredibly wholesome (as a family should be). Since the death of his mother when Seonghwa was a teenager, the disconnect between his father and himself became more and more apparent. His mother was always the middleman so to speak, in that she kept the peace in the household.

The views of the two men were very different-- the king was very traditional in his ways, and lead his kingdom as such. Prince Seonghwa, however, was very open-minded and well-liked by the general public. Hongjoong said that this probably didn't 'tickle the King's funny bones' either, as he'd had many officers ask him when he'd step down and make room for his son.

Seonghwa yawned as Hongjoong dressed him, still trying to shrug off the lackadaisical air that followed a long sleep. Hongjoong patted his collar, grinning. "Good luck with the beast." He smirked. Seonghwa glared at him, though the younger man just smiled harder and patted his shoulder.

Seonghwa inhaled slowly, in order to steady himself. Hongjoong nodded, understanding the cue, and opened the heavy oak doors. To either side of him stood two knights who stood completely still as the prince exited between them.

His attire was simple, a loose-fitting cotton shirt tucked into dark linen pants. In the summer heat, this simple pairing was perfect. Seonghwa strode down the deck which surrounded the palace atrium. He paused momentarily to watch one of the palace’s resident blackbirds diving in the courtyard birdbath and smiled to himself.

The tranquility of the outdoors calmed the prince, and this morning was no exception. A soft, warm breeze rushed through his dark hair, and he sighed. “I wonder what he needs from me this time?”

The main hall, in the northern wing of the palace, was incredibly large. Its ceiling stretched up at least twenty metres, and was domed, carved with intricate details. The space was enormous and anyone who stepped into it would immediately feel dwarfed by the massive angels that adorned the walls.

Seonghwa hated the room with a passion. Not because of its dark, hollow… austerity. The memories that the cavernous hall held were overwhelming for such a young man. At the age of sixteen, his mother had passed rather suddenly in this room. Every time Seonghwa sat at the long, mahogany dining table, he was reminded of the way the shocks hit her.

The way her body had rippled, how her mouth had foamed, and eventually… how she fell still.

Shaking his head in an attempt to dismiss the image, Seonghwa approached his father’s table. The king was already sat and waiting for him, his eyes studying his son critically. Seonghwa averted his gaze and seated himself to the king’s right.

“You’re late, Seonghwa.” The old man’s voice was laced with thinly veiled disgust, an emotion that his son had grown used to over the years. He glared at his father briefly before reaching for the fruits. As he bit into a plum, he turned back to his father. “What do you want?”

“That is no way to address a king, Park Seonghwa. You know it, too.” His father’s small eyes were alight with anger. Seonghwa sighed and placed the plum on his plate and stared at the king blankly. Eventually, his father gave in.

“As a prince, you know that you must inherit the kingdom and the right to rule.” He cast a stern glance at his son. “To do so, you must have a spouse. A wife. Someone who you can depend upon.” Seonghwa raised a brow, tapping a napkin on the corner of his mouth where the plum had inevitably stained. “ _So…_?” Seonghwa prompted, aware of the fact that his father had paused.

The king watched him, a very clear look of distaste in his gaze. “ _So._ We’ll be holding a ball. The eligible children of the neighbouring kingdoms will be invited, as well as a few from the west. This is your chance to do something _right_ for once.” Seonghwa turned sharply at his father’s jab.

“When? When will you hold this little matchmaking gig of yours, Father?” Seonghwa shot a pointed look at the royal elder and lifted his plum nonchalantly.

“We send the letters out tomorrow.” His father met his gaze and uttered his next words darkly. “Remember, Park Seonghwa, you are, _under absolutely no circumstances_ , going to marry someone for something as frivolous as _love.”_ Seonghwa almost snorted. An amused look played across his features as he regarded his father’s stone-cold countenance. “Love? Really? As if I’d care for something that my own _family_ has deprived me of.” He spat the last words contemptuously and stood, chair scraping the hall’s cobble floor.

His father stood, equally angry. “No son of mine will disrespect the family name. You will marry for the sake of your kingdom, not for your own sake. Do you hear that, Seonghwa? _Not for your own selfish sake._ ”

Seonghwa laughed sarcastically. “You know what, Father? Maybe the reason Mother died was because you were so neglectful. You didn’t bat an _eyelid_ when the doctors came to you, and now look: she’s gone.” Eyes blazing and throat aching, Seonghwa stormed past his father and down the hall towards the large oak doors back outside.

 _No son of mine will disrespect the family name… Ha. As if he even considers me his son in the first place._ The prince stormed out of the hall, hot-headed. He strode down the stairs and into the courtyard. Past the bird bath, through the vine trellises and into the smaller garden.

Here, he flung himself onto a whitewashed bench and exhaled loudly. The sound of the summer breeze and crickets in the courtyard trees soothed him and he sunk lower into the bench.

_God, I just want to get out of this hellhole._


	2. A Better Son

Just as San’s lips met his mug, the door burst open, and whatever coffee had reached his mouth returned to the cup and its saucer, leaving the prince sputtering. His eyes watered, but he laughed, placing the saucer back down on the mahogany table. “You seem to be in a good mood, Jiyoo. What happened?”

His older sister beamed, waving a scroll above her head. “It’s time! Oh San, I’m so excited!” She hastily skipped up to the table and placed the thick cream paper before her brother, watching him expectantly as she pulled herself a seat. San gave her an inquisitive look before lifting the scroll and unrolling it, adjusting his glasses.

The invitation itself was written in flowing, gold ink. San could almost feel the wealth radiating from it and he sighed. 

_ The Park family cordially invite your daughter, Choi Jiyoo, to the traditional matchmaking ball of their son, Park Seonghwa.  _

“Isn’t the Park family incredibly hostile? The late princess died, correct?” His sister shrugged, lifting a small sugar cube and placing it directly onto her tongue. San made a face. “You shouldn’t do that, Yoo, Mother keeps telling you it’s awful for your teeth.”

Jiyoo scowled and poked at the sugar bowl with her teaspoon. “Mother’s not always right, you just say that because you’re her favourite. Anyway, while the Park family isn’t  _ that  _ widely liked, they’re still respected and they’re still royals. And God knows that our family needs this.”

San winced, knowing full well that his sister’s words held mountains of truth. His eyes drifted over the dilapidated dining hall, resting momentarily on the flaking gold leaf and the worn out cobble. Rust coated the once brilliant armour displays that stood on either side of almost rotting doors. He exhaled, running a hand through his dark locks. “You’re right. I assume Mother and Father have seen this invitation?”

Jiyoo shook her head nervously. “I don’t want to raise their hopes. If they even think there’s a sliver of a chance for me and this prince, they’ll drop everything and focus on preparing me for it. I don’t need that. Especially not when they’re supposed to be stressing over all of this.” She gestured at the hall and it’s run-down state.

The economic state of San’s family was rapidly decreasing as their money went into subsidising the kingdom’s charities and do-gooders. As gracious and giving as his parents were, San worried about their overly generous nature. Let it be known that it wasn’t because of small things like the degraded furniture of the palace’s rooms, but rather the fact that his parents struggled to support their own staff, let alone the whole kingdom’s people.

“On the other hand, however, maybe the being out of the kingdom might help us persuade them to calm it down a little. Maybe help them take a moment and realise what’s going on in their own lives isn’t actually ideal.” San nodded as he spoke, almost as though he was still convincing himself. Jiyoo frowned at her younger brother and stood from her chair. “You genuinely think it’ll help them?”

“I mean, yes, I do, they won’t be in the kingdom so no more money will be leaving the family accounts. They’ll be stable for a little while. In that time maybe we can convince them to rethink the amount of money they’re giving away.” San’s heart hurt thinking about how much the charities appreciated the donations that his family provided them with. He’d visited those charities himself and had played games with the orphans that his family’s money funded. But his parents were rocketing towards debt, and he couldn’t let that happen again.

The first time the Choi family had stretched themselves thin was many generations ago, but it had been met with general disapproval from surrounding royal families. San’s family had been shut out from events that concerned the other royals; it was an incident that none of them wanted to repeat.

Jiyoo considered this quietly and after a long pause, she nodded. “I’ll take it to them now. Do you want to come with me?” The question was more of a plea, and San sighed, regarding his sister with a look of pity. “Oh, alright then. Let’s go.”

The pair strolled out of the dining room and towards the throne room, Jiyoo surprisingly chipper. She continued to talk about the prince, Seonghwa. According to rumours, his visuals were inexplicable. He was something straight out of angelic scriptures. Or so they say. San smiled and nodded as his sister spoke, but his mind was elsewhere.

He wondered how his sister would react if she knew his secret. All this talk about this angelic prince made San nervous; he didn’t cope very well with social situations to start with, but if this Prince was everything that people made him out to be- San would be in trouble. Especially if he’d be spending a lot of time near him.  _ Perhaps he isn’t as charming as they say he is. Besides which, it’s not as though you’ll  _ definitely  _ fall for him. You’ll be fine. _ He shot a glance at his sister nervously. She was still babbling on about how incredible this prince was.

(A/N: i actually just. Fumbled over that entire paragraph END ME)

They pushed open the throne room door, and Jiyoo skittered forward like an overexcited puppy. “Mother! Father!” The royal couple looked up from the quiet conversation they’d been engaged in and smiled at their children. As Jiyoo hurried forward brandishing the scroll, San adjusted his glasses and wandered forward, smiling at his sister’s eager voice as she revealed the invitation. He couldn’t help but notice that his father was clutching a manuscript behind his back, and that his grip tightened as Jiyoo continued to speak.

San waited until his mother and Jiyoo were engaged in their own conversation of ball gowns and sashes and beautiful princes before he approached his father who was still standing with his arm behind his back, clutching the manuscript. “Father, what is that?” San asked, holding out his hand expectantly. The king stared at him, his eyes dark. “It’s nothing, son.”

The prince sighed and lowered his hand, studying his father’s countenance with intrigue. “Is it about the accounts?” This time it was his father’s turn to exhale, and he drew the manuscript out from behind his back, studying the top sheet on the pile briefly before handing it over to San.

As he studied the papers, his father started to speak. “We can’t keep subsidising them at the rate that we currently are- there’s only a little money left before the tax revenue comes in. I don’t know how to deal with this, there’s really no way to balance it without seeming cruel.” San nodded slowly as he leafed through the handwritten accounts, adding the sums of money in his head. At last, he looked up.

“Father, I know it’s hard but we really do need to start making cuts in expenditure. Maybe pick three or four main charities to support and write personalised letters to the others. Or perhaps let the general public decide which charity receives the year’s subsidies.” His father shot him a look, as if to ask  _ How long have you been thinking about this? _

San gave him a thin smile and placed the manuscript in his father’s waiting hand. “Let’s take Jiyoo to this ball. It’ll be a good chance to think about these subsidies, and a good opportunity to get some rest.” His father nodded slowly.  “Brilliant.” He grinned and placed a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder. “I couldn’t have asked for a better son.”


	3. A Wife

Seonghwa awoke the next morning in the same fashion as the previous. Hongjoong put the small bronze handbell back on the prince’s bedside table and ushered him into his dressing room. He dressed the prince in a more formal attire, explaining that he was to announce this matchmaking ball to the kingdom.

Groaning, Seonghwa shrugged on the thick jacket that his manservant held out. “It’s summer, Hongjoong. Why do I have to wear this in  _ summer _ ?”

“Don’t ask me, it’s etiquette.”

“Bloody etiquette.” Seonghwa grumbled as Hongjoong adjusted his cravat. When the younger had finally finished dressing him, Seonghwa took one last glance in the mirror and nodded to himself.  _ One fine looking young man.  _ His mother’s voice echoed in his mind and he grinned to himself, shaking his head.

Hongjoong watched him; this beautiful prince with such a dark childhood. His best friend, and the one person he’d lay down his life for. Seonghwa caught his gaze and his smile softened. “Thank you, Hongjoong. For everything.” His voice was gentle and smooth. The manservant felt a light blush rise to his cheeks.  _ He’s going to be married soon. You should tell him,  _ a voice echoed in the back of his mind. Hongjoong cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “Any time, Seonghwa.” He went back to folding the prince’s night clothes.

Seonghwa blinked at his friend’s sudden change in composure. “Are you feeling okay?”

“What?”

“Your face is bright red. Do you have a fever?” Seonghwa furrowed his brow and reached a hand out to touch Hongjoong’s forehead. The latter flinched, standing up too quickly and dropping a pair of cufflinks that he’d been fiddling with. One glance at Seonghwa’s hurt face made him feel worse and he laughed quietly to lighten the awkward mood. “I’m fine. You should go, you’ll be late.”

Seonghwa stared at him for a second too long and opened his mouth as if to say something. Hongjoong quickly hurried into the Prince’s wardrobe before the words could escape his mouth.

Almost as soon as Seonghwa stepped outside, he was hit with the wave of summer humidity. Frowning, he dabbed his brow with a handkerchief and headed towards the southern wing of the palace: the side which faced his kingdom. As he walked he wondered about Hongjoong’s actions this morning. It was very unlike his manservant to act so skittishly, and he  _ had  _ been very red.  _ I hope he gets well soon. _

A knight handed him a scroll as Seonghwa walked towards the palace’s gates. He nodded gratefully and continued on his path. 

The royal podium was set outside the palace gates, and to get there the prince had to mount a horse-drawn carriage. Though the distance from the palace’s main doors to the iron clad gates was minimal (a mere two hundred metres), no royal was to set a foot on the gravel; or so tradition dictated.

The palace’s front gardens were the venue for various royal engagements, varying from galas to balls to weddings. However, as a young boy, it was deemed inappropriate for a prince to be allowed to “run wild” in public view.

So as Seonghwa stepped into the black vehicle, his eyes surveyed this garden. The outdoors had intrigued him from a young age, but he had only ever been allowed to venture into the small, decorative courtyard behind the palace walls. The vegetation inside the palace was limited, while the front garden was full of low cut hedges, plum trees and various flowers that Seonghwa couldn’t identify from his seat.

When his birthday came around, in two months time, he would finally be allowed to roam these gardens.  _ Twenty years old and still living by rules and regulations. How pathetic.  _ Seonghwa sighed and straightened his back, once again attaining the regal posture expected of him. As the gates opened, the buzz and chatter of the population clamoured at his ears and he beamed.

Seeing and hearing his kingdom’s people made him proud. Not of himself-- he loved to see the adoring faces of children peer up at him from the crowd while their mothers hushed them. The colour and life that existed beyond the palace walls awed him and when the king allowed him to address them, Seonghwa couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement.

The footman opened his carriage door and bowed as the prince disembarked the vehicle. Immediately the crowd began to cheer and Seonghwa attempted to contain his own happiness as he approached the podium.

As he steadied himself, the hoards quietened. The prince drew up the scroll that he’d been given by his father’s advisor, and with one last sweeping glance across his people, Seonghwa began to speak.

“As many of you are aware, my birthday is fast approaching. With it comes the possibility of my inheriting the crown.” He paused as a small cheer rippled through the crowd. Smiling, he continued. “But with this responsibility, the king has deemed it right that I should attempt to find a partner. A person with whom I may share the load of responsibility. Someone that I hope all of you will grow to love as much as I intend to.” Hushed voices passed through the rows.

Seonghwa cleared his throat and straightened up. “To do this, the royal family has arranged a ball. In the coming months, I shall be on the lookout for a…” He paused briefly, the next word catching in his throat. The word that, so far, he had avoided in his speech. “...woman... who shares my views for the future of this kingdom.” He swallowed and spared a glance at the soldiers lining the podium before him. 

No one seemed to have noticed his discomfort. So he continued his speech, reading the script that his father’s advisor had written.

“I hope I can rely on your support during this process as well as respect for whomever it is that I choose to be my bride.” With that, he bowed and headed back towards his carriage. The crowd’s voices enveloped him once again, though he was being driven in the opposite direction.

Only once he was further down the palace drive did he breathe a sigh of relief. And only then did he begin to consider his words.  _ A wife? What in God’s name were you thinking?  _ He paused to evaluate the word.  _ Wife.  _ The word sounded so common on his own tongue, but not in relation to him _ directly _ .

_ Well. It is what is expected of me, I suppose.  _ Wincing, he loosened his cravate.

_ The one thing that I’m sure I won’t be able to live up to. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LISTEN I KNOW HWA'S BIRTHDAY IS IN APRIL DON'T @ ME i just rlly like summer and the birthday thing is important


End file.
